


A Scientific Experiment

by deedeeinfj



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen gives Jack a lesson in human anatomy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Scientific Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2004.

"We'll have no seamen left if they keep hanging men for sodomy!" Jack cried, slamming a hand on the table. He drained what was left of his grog and swept his chin with his sleeve. Stephen shot his friend a brief glance over the rim of his spectacles, then calmly returned to his dissection. 'How can they blame a man who has spent so long away from home? It's a jolly miracle all of 'em don't do it." Jack leaned back in his chair and watched Stephen's proceedings with distaste. "Why gut a fish if not for eating?"  
  
"Some animals do, you know," Stephen replied.  
  
"Gut fish?"  
  
Stephen smiled, still staring down the length of his scalpel, his forehead creased with concentration. "Sodomy, as they call it. Do stop shaking the table with your foot."  
  
"Animals, did you say?" Jack leaned heavily over the table and managed to miss Stephen's muttered oath as the scalpel slipped. "Horses buggering horses and whatnot?"  
  
With a sigh, the doctor set down his scalpel, removed his spectacles, and looked up. "No, Jack." He paused and smiled a little. "Did you know that there is a gland in the male species -- of  _homo sapiens_ , I mean -- that makes it pleasurable?" He stood up from the table and began cleaning the remains of the fish, while Jack sat back and reached for his violin.  
  
He spent some minutes tuning it and playing scales, watching absent-mindedly as Stephen washed his hands in a basin of water. "My quarters smell of fish," he said peevishly as Stephen sat down and leaned the cello against his shoulder.   
  
"Better fish than grog." Stephen drew the bow over the strings, tightening and loosening them until they satisfied his ear.   
  
"This organ you speak of--"  
  
"A gland. If I am expected to distinguish between a frigate and a brig, I expect you to know human anatomy."  
  
Jack laughed. "This gland, then. Does it truly exist?" Stephen nodded as he put his spectacles back on and began shuffling through his music. "If it does, then why do they hang men for sodomy?"  
  
"I am a scientist, Jack, not a theologian: and I have come to find that men must choose one or the other." He started playing a piece by Mozart, but Jack did not join him. "Another one, perhaps?" he asked, reaching to rearrange the music. But Jack had set aside his instrument and raised his bulky form up from the chair, and was now searching the bookcase. "Hang it, Jack, what are you doing?"  
  
"Ha!" exclaimed Jack. He turned back to Stephen and flipped through the pages of a book. When he had found what he sought, he laid the book in front of the doctor and seemed to be waiting expectantly, his arms folded in front of him as he leaned over the table. It was a diagram of a human body, detailing muscles and bones.  
  
Stephen stared at it a moment, then looked over his spectacles at Jack, crinkling his brow. "The part of the body most affected by grog?" He pointed to the figure's brain, then returned placidly to his cello.  
  
"Where is this gland, my dear doctor?"  
  
There was no getting around it. If all these years at sea had taught him nothing about larboards and topsails, he  _did_  know Jack Aubrey, and once the man had a curiosity about something, he would not rest until it was satisfied. Stephen sighed, flipped a few pages, and pointed. With all his resolve he tightened the muscles that threatened to curve his mouth into a smile, as Jack's eyes widened. Whether disbelief, disgust, or something else, Stephen could not tell.  
  
"Might we now return to the Mozart, Jack, or shall I retire for the evening?" There was no answer, and Stephen turned to look at his friend. "Jack."  
  
"Pity the poor man whose arse--"  
  
Stephen laughed heartily. "Will you not set your mind on something else? On Bach, perhaps, or the writings of Augustine?"  
  
"How can I concentrate on a violin when my mind is occupied by such sensational images? I ask you, my dear Stephen, in all fairness. To think that some of the blokes on this very vessel might be engaged in such!" There was a short silence, and then: "Have you ever...?"  
  
"I have not." With a sigh of resignation, Stephen set his cello and bow aside. "Good night to you, Jack."   
  
Just as Stephen reached the door, Jack's voice stopped him. "A sad excuse for a physician you are, Dr. Maturin, to leave my arm untended."  
  
 _Blast the arm_ , Stephen thought. Jack's left arm bore a deep cut from the morning's battle, and Stephen had meant for hours to check it and reassure himself that there was no infection. He waited while Jack rolled up his loose, white sleeve, then sat down to examine the cut. "Just as I had hoped," he smiled. "No infection, and already on the mend." As he set about replacing the bandage, he was suddenly aware of Jack's closeness, carried on a warm breath of tobacco and grog. Stephen rolled the sleeve back down, successful in avoiding Jack's eyes until the very end. Then he heard his own voice asking, "Are you that curious, Jack?"  
  
"I have always found that I learn better when I can see and do for myself," he replied, and Stephen realized that the blood was pounding through his body. He felt almost dizzy with it, and quite ridiculous, if the truth be told. Jack had been at sea far too long -- that much was evident. They had both been away for far, far too long.  
  
It seemed that for every month they'd been away from land and wives, Stephen felt drawn closer to the sea-like unpredictability of Jack. His chin met Jack's jawline, and he closed his eyes against the rough feel of it. "What are we doing?" he asked quietly.  
  
Jack drew back a little and his teeth flashed in the familiar grin -- the grin he wore when he took home a prize. Lucky Jack, who never lost a battle. "Shall we consider it a scientific experiment, my dear Stephen?" His smile faded into a look of earnestness. "I would like to find this gland. Yours, that is. I want to see if what you say is true."  
  
"And the Articles?" Stephen managed to say, though his throat felt thick and his usually reliable mind was of no help.  
  
"If I obeyed the Articles, I should never get drunk," Jack replied with another grin. This was quite true enough.  
  
Stephen looked away and felt almost as if another person, a person with unknown thoughts and desires, were speaking through him. "Do you still have the grease I used on your forehead when you burnt half your scalp off?"  
  
Jack laughed. "I do."  
  
"We'll need it."  
  
Stephen saw the question forming on Jack's lips, and just as soon the captain had answered it himself. His face reddened even more than usual. "Right you are, Stephen." He rummaged around until he found what he sought, then stood facing Stephen; each seemed to be waiting for the other to know what to do. Finally, they both moved for Jack's bed, and Stephen pulled off his nightshirt with a calmness that surprised even himself. He loosened his breeches, then lay back against Jack's bumpy pillows.  
  
Jack now seemed frozen completely. Stephen smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way. "Just your fingers, Jack, and you'll find it. And intoxication will remain your only violation of the law." He watched as his usually impulsive friend took some time and care with the grease, then leaned closer. Stephen exhaled and made to relax his body, but realized that he was already relaxed -- as if this really were just another experiment. "You don't have to," he said in a quiet voice, sensing Jack's increasing hesitation.  
  
But Jack Aubrey was no coward, nor did he ever turn from a challenge. A moment later, and his fingers were inside; Stephen shifted a little to ease the discomfort. "Stephen, how far do I..."  
  
"No more... right there! You have it, Jack... Oh God, you have it." Stephen closed his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand; the last thing they needed was a visit from Killick or some other man who might hear. Had he kept his eyes open, he would have seen the indescribable look on Jack's face, a mixture of curiosity satisfied, amazement, and pleasure. Stephen's breaths were shallow and uneven now, and he had lost count of how many times he had told Jack "that's right," and "yes, there."  
  
When Stephen finally let his weight fall heavily into the bed, his mind was a dizzying rush of pleasure and something more. He opened his eyes and saw Jack moving over him. "You may yet convert me to the ways of science," Jack mumbled. "I doubt I have ever given any woman such pleasure, and yet the pleasure was all mine. Nothing has ever been like that... that experiment, Stephen."  
  
Stephen hardly knew how the evening had progressed from dissecting a fish to being kissed by the ship's captain, but he returned the roughness and the impatience, and he ignored the taste of grog. Somehow his hand found its way to Jack's breeches, and he felt teeth in his shoulder, and Mozart ringing in his ears, and a warmth that his wife had never -- could never -- awaken. Violins, adagios, Articles, and fish were a long way from their minds when they finally finished the scientific experiment, and it was the first time Stephen reached a conclusion without noting it in his books.


End file.
